


Irreducible

by QuarkFromAccounting



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Torture, but chapter 2 isnt done yet so, chapter one is likely to be the only one with anything really bad in it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 20:51:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10601994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuarkFromAccounting/pseuds/QuarkFromAccounting
Summary: Ultra Magnus is no more. Minimus Ambus has to cope with things he has lost, and make up for lost time.





	

Had Ultra Magnus stayed in contact, he could’ve noticed the warning signs before it was too late, no matter how lacklustre his social skills. But he hadn't done either of those, and now Tyrest was full of holes. And it seemed that Magnus was no more.  
Whilst the Magnus armour lay unmoving and shattered around his feet, Minimus Ambus listened in horror and shock as Tyrest detailed his plan. It was utterly ridiculous. He was talking about his planned genocide as if it were righteous; as if it was the purest path to take. And no-one had caught on until now. It was almost pure chance that he was currently finding out about it.  
Ultra Magnus would not have allowed this kind of deplorable act, and Minimus couldn't either. Taking advantage of his (ex?) boss’s mid monologue pause, he told him exactly that.  
Tyrest shut him down with a resigned “I know,” put Minimus’ head in his hand, and clenched.  
Fully deserved.  
When he woke up his optics were dimmed. A quick mental check told him he was in his irreducible body, and when he tried to move, he found that he was strapped to a table of some sort.  
In a panic, his optics flashed on and he started to struggle, only to see a smiling Pharma looming just over him. The doctor grinned ominously, and leant entirely too close to Minimus’s face before speaking in a tone of voice that didn’t quite reach his optics.  
“Good to see you. I’m sure you’ll be just delighted to know that the one and only Tyrest himself requested that you go through this… procedure.”  
“Procedure?” That… did not sound good for Minimus. Especially since _Pharma_ was involved.  
The doctor's from got wider, “He was quite adamant about it,” Pharma put on his best Tyrest impersonation, mimicking his voice in a way he probably wouldn't, were the mech actually in the room with them, “'oh, my _dearest_ Pharma, I know you've been super busy and excited for your present, but I need you to perform some stupid surgery on some nobody for me. He's fallen in with some _bad influences_   that I would like you purify from him.' Now don't give me that look, as much I'd really rather not, I do owe him quite a bit, and since I have a short amount of time before my _friend_ wakes up, I might as well, you know?"  
It was then that Minimus noticed the claws in the doctor's hands, and he felt pure dread.  
It was agonising, but he couldn’t scream. Pharma had disabled his voice box. He watched as everything happened; saw his hands removed, and watched them be sawn in half and the replacements attached.  
Once the hands had been changed, he felt Pharma’s on his head, and everything went black for what felt like a second, but what succeeded the darkness was a blurry fisheye perspective view, and even more agony.  
After the procedure was finished but before the wounds had been properly sealed, Pharma suddenly paused. With a devious grin on his face, he informed the minibot that he had to leave in order to greet his "guest” in time.  
Realising that the doctor almost certainly meant Ratchet (who _wasn't supposed to be here)_ , Minimus, panicking, tried to roll over to grab and halt him, but only succeeded in crashing down onto the cold, hard floor.  
Pharma barely reacted to this, but leant over Minimus, turning his hands from sharp medical equipment back into normal so he could put them on his hips.  
“Congratulations. You just instantly turned the probability of your survival from 50% all the way down to 10%, tops.” the doctor sighed in light annoyance, before turning around and leaving to do whatever he had planned.  
And so, Minimus lay on the ground, in numb agony, with energon still leaking from the wounds, and the knowledge that he had failed.  
Minimus’s single optic frizzled with painful static, which only increased in intensity as he tried to move his mouth. No matter how much he tried to focus, it kept resulting in his vision glitching, leaving the world around him an unstable, painful blur.  
Attempts to get into his feet were an unanimous failure. The entire world spun around him; the dizziness, agony, and instability of his shoddy new claws clearly too much to even get up up. His mind felt like it was whirling inside of his aching head, unable to properly focus itself. The most he could do was slowly along the cold floor, and hope he would be seen by someone he could explain the situation to before it was too late; he knew being able to psychically help was impossible, and despite his initial denial, it had been so since the first cut was made.  
About an arm's length away from his head, he thought he could see the fuzzy outline of something small and black. Could it be? Had Pharma left his insignia behind? He lifted his head to try and confirm or deny his hypothesis, and though his view was mostly blurry static, and it felt incredibly disorientating, he’d recognise it anywhere, and that was definitely it.  
Minimus painfully crawled towards his moustache, slowly but surely making his way towards it. Everything else that mattered had already been, or was the click of a switch away from being destroyed.  
He had failed everyone, stripped of his job (his _life_ ), and reduced until he could be reduced no more. What would his brother think if he saw him like this?  
Blurry static became all that Minimus could see, forcing him to use his lead-like arms and claws to try to feel out the location of the small black moustache.  
Finally, one of his claws felt something. He tried to grab it, but he was used to hands, and the new claws he had been… gifted didn’t work the way he was used to. Almost nothing happened when his brain sent the usual signals to his hand; it was as if the signals worked sideways. Only when he tried to spread his fingers outwards did his claw open, but he was shaking too much to be able to try and grasp it.  
His knees and elbows gave in, and he collapsed fully on the floor, the world growing even more distant, the static turning into the darkness of unconsciousness, and despite his best efforts, Minimus fell.

 

  _(It was strange though; just before he succumbed, Minimus could've sworn he saw a flash of pink.) _

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing ive written in like 3 years lmao  
> chapter 2 will be up whenever & will most likely be glimpses of the rest of the gang during the timeskip between this and chapter 3, when we'll be back with mins  
> now im shaking out of anxiety so im gonna post this and take a nap probably


End file.
